Betrayed, page 14
part #3 of The Taellaneth Series
“Keep it. Come, we should take a better look.”
She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth and, now she had a moment, called some of the heartland’s magic to chase away the chill of death and try to ease the renewed ache through her body. The bright warmth of the heartland curled around her, more than she had asked for, steadying her steps as she followed Kester into the barn, silver sparks of light still active, past bunches of preserved flowers, to the body.
“He knew his attacker,” Arrow observed. “Was taken by surprise.” The expression on the man’s face was horror and shock combined. There had been no time for him to defend against the knife.
“The attacker knew what he was doing,” Kester said, kneeling by the corpse. “A single thrust upwards, piercing the heart.”
“Trained in weapons, then.” Arrow made a slow circuit around the body, keeping close watch on where she put her feet. “A tracker may find more, but I cannot see any other footprints.”
“We are trained to leave no trace.”
“A warrior?” Arrow looked up, dismay clenching her stomach, nausea churning again. The Erith’s elite did not murder. It was one of the many codes of honour that bound a warrior’s conduct.
“Perhaps.” Kester was still looking at the body, bowed shoulders only sign of his feelings. “Or perhaps someone who has had some training but not passed the Trials.”
“There must be a number of those.”
“Many. And many at the Palace.”
A shadow came towards them, Orlis pacing rapidly through the barn.
“Miach was disturbed. There was something else going on here, but he would not tell me what. He was too disturbed for this to be a simple farmer.” Orlis was as serious as Arrow had ever seen him, face pinched.
“Is he sending someone?”
“One of the Queen’s cadres will be here soon. We are asked to wait.” Orlis was still serious.
Soon. That suggested that they may have been on their way already. Arrow tilted her head. “What is it?”
“He did not seem particularly surprised by the death. He was more concerned by the rallestran.”
Rallestran who had been confined to a barn with open doors. Voracious eaters who had not eaten the corpse laid out before them, Arrow thought, and opened her senses a fraction, seeking active magic.
“Something is wrong,” Kester repeated Arrow’s earlier words.
“No more active magic. There was a containment around the body,” she told them, sight overlaid. “We should search before the White Guard arrive,” she suggested, glancing around the barn. This single building was large and would take a while to go through.
“We are not splitting up,” Kester vetoed the idea before she had even voiced it. “Can you record the scene?”
“Of course.”
Glad to have something simple, and constructive, to do, Arrow spoke the necessary words and felt the pull of magic as the spell activated, preserving the details around them. Walking slowly, she made her way along the centre of the barn, traces of her spell cascading around her, committing everything to memory.
There were no more apparent surprises in that barn. They walked through the other two barns with similar results. Hundreds upon hundreds of drying flowers in the second, and in the last, noticeably cooler than the other two, great, shallow troughs of water, full of cut flowers with the slight trace of a preservation spell running through them.
“There are a lot of flowers,” Arrow remarked as they came out of the final barn into sunlight.
“It is a flower farm.” Orlis shrugged.
“I mean, there are fields full of flowers which look ready to be cut, and barns full of flowers.”
“Full stock,” Kester agreed, looking around. “There is no cart to take the deliveries to the Palace.”
“The lanes around are too narrow for any large carriage,” Orlis said.
“Was Gilean here?” Arrow asked.
“There is no trace of him.”
They turned and looked at the residence, with its closed doors. Arrow opened her senses again, examining the building in second sight. Absolutely ordinary. There were the usual ward spells she would expect in any Erith building, well crafted and settled into the fabric of the place. The wards were dormant telling Arrow that no living creature was inside.
Casting her attention wider she looked across at the half dozen cows, who were watching the trio with idle interest, chewing perhaps on grass or perhaps on whatever feed had been left for them. There was nothing remarkable about the creatures, either.
She came back to the first world to find that Kester and Orlis had moved towards the cows, checking their condition and exchanging cryptic comments she did not understand. She had had no notion that either of them knew anything about animal welfare but from the confident, calm, way they moved among the large, docile creatures she realised that they were both familiar with caring for animals.
She stood in her borrowed clothes and felt the same sense of displacement she had at the Palace the day before. As out of place here, in the midst of the Erith, as she ever had been in the Taellaneth or the human world. The magical training she had received, so grudgingly, was the least part of what she needed to know to survive the Erith. All her years of service to the Taellan had not prepared her for being among the Erith as an almost free agent. Sighing, she wondered if she looked as awkward as she felt.
The tug of another set of wards pulled her attention away. She moved around the side of the residence as one of their horses made a low sound and saw a cadre of White Guard approaching at a steady, ground-covering run.
~
By the time the cadre had reached her, Kester and Orlis were beside her again. The leader of the cadre exchanged easy, friendly, greetings with Kester then Orlis, and turned to her.
“And you must be Lady Arrow. Miach speaks highly of you. I am Elias.” A high ranked warrior, with braids as complex as Miach’s, and the Queen’s symbol woven in. Second cadre to Miach’s, if she had to guess. Which meant that Miach had sent people he trusted, and a far more senior cadre than was warranted, to investigate this site.
“Honoured to meet you, svegraen.” Arrow made a shallow bow on instinct, unable to escape her training.
“Miach says there has been trouble?” Elias looked past them and his eyes widened, taking in the charred remains. “An understatement as usual.” He turned and gave low-voiced orders to his cadre which had them spreading out and moving forward to search the open barn.
“The body is in there.” Kester inclined his head towards the barn. “We turned it to make identification but have not otherwise touched it. There were no obvious signs that anyone else had been there. The rallestran were also in the barn.”
“And had not touched the body?” Elias’ gaze was sharp.
“There was a containment spell,” Arrow said.
“Could you tell the maker?”
“No one that I know.”
“There must be hundreds,” Elias said, almost to himself, going past them to look at the charred mass. “Killed cleanly,” he added, tone approving. Arrow’s fingers clenched around the flask in her pocket, swallowing against more nausea. The warrior glanced up, trace of amber in his eyes. “You are every bit as powerful as Miach said. I did not believe it,” he added, candidly, “as no one has wielded that kind of power since Serran.”
Arrow shifted awkwardly under the intense scrutiny, finding nothing to say in response, hoping that he would not start discussing her relatives with the same casual ease as Miach had used, and then wondering just how many people at the Palace knew her history.
“You made good time,” Kester commented. Arrow’s attention caught. She had not missed that detail, but was slightly surprised Kester voiced it. Elias was not deceived by the mild tone either, a brief smile crossing his face.
“We were on our way. The farm’s delivery cart is at the Palace. With the cart horse but without the farmer, or its contents.”
“And Miach sent you?”
“He could not come himself.” Elias’ face closed, friendliness vanishing behind a mask.
“The farmer was not just producing flowers,” Arrow told him. It was not a question and the warrior simply looked back at her, unblinking. “There is mercat among the crop.”
Kester and Orlis hissed in surprise even as Elias’ face tightened further.
“Not many people know that,” the warrior told her, easy manner entirely gone, light catching the hard planes of his face and glitter of amber in his eyes. Not as powerful as Miach. Plenty skilled enough to kill her, though. Warriors were trained to act against mages as well as protect them. A chill ran through her. This was a warrior who had dedicated his life to his Queen’s service and would kill in her service without a second thought.
“It has many uses,” she said, fingers clenching in her pockets again. Many uses, many of them as close to illicit as any plant could come. A powerful plant, it was used in some advanced magic to add potency to healing potions. All Academy students in the higher cycles were required to study it. Distilled a particular way, a method that was forbidden, it made Erith susceptible to suggestion. A lesser known effect, and one of the good reasons to keep such a plant, was its use in aiding the frailty that came with age. Arrow’s stomach twisted. There were very few good reasons why the Queen’s own guard were keeping such a close watch on a farmer producing mercat so near to the Palace. The Queen and her Consort had been in power for many years, and had neither of them been young when they were chosen for the roles.
“Where is Noverian?” she asked.
Elias’ expression froze. Noverian was considerably older than his vetrai.
“You need to ask Miach.”
“What is it?” Orlis asked, frowning in puzzlement.
“And Her Majesty?” Arrow faced the leader of the Queen’s second cadre with a straight back, hoping she did not betray her racing pulse and twisting stomach. She remembered the delicate Erith woman who had seemed far smaller than she had expected.
“Ask Miach.” Elias sighed, showing his own age. “It is not for me to speak.”
“What is going on?” Orlis demanded.
“Later, mageling.” Kester’s voice was sharp.
“Whoever was here did not leave any trace beyond the dead body and containment spell,” Arrow told the warrior, conscious of the warrior’s cadre returning and forming a loose ring around them. There were no weapons shown, but the subtle tension in Kester showed he had spotted the possible threat, too.
“The knife is unmarked and not traceable,” one of the cadre put in. “Close quarters, stabbed head on. A single, clean strike. He knew his attacker.”
“And there is no trace of mercat in any of the barns,” the leader of the junior third spoke up. Arrow thought it was interesting that they had checked. Her own, internal, review of the recordings she had taken confirmed the warrior’s statement.
“So how did you know?” Elias turned back to Arrow.
“It is growing in the fields. I thought it was odd that there were two shades of purple in some of the fields, and the farmer had a petal clutched in one hand,” she answered.
“And why are you here at all?”
“We are trying to trace Gilean vo Presien,” she answered before Orlis could speak. “I have a commission from Preceptor Evellan for such.”
“And we are providing escort,” Kester added, before Elias could ask.
“Show me.” Elias held out a hand. Arrow pulled the document from an inner pocket, glad she had not trusted it to her bag. The warrior read it in silence, amber flaring as he tested the parchment with his senses. “Copied at the Archives,” he noted, and the note of approval was back in his voice. “Very wise.” He handed it back to her. “Gilean is not here, then?”
“No. And does not appear to ever have been. At least not recently.”
“Why did you think he was?”
“People reported him travelling in this direction, and he mentioned this place in a half-written letter in his rooms,” Orlis put in, as sober as Arrow had ever seen him.
“Gilean has not been seen for days,” Elias began, interrupted by one of his cadre who made some hand signal Arrow could not follow. Elias stepped aside from the group, holding out his hand, taking the small communicator disk the other warrior handed him, the speaker at the other side of the link hidden from Arrow’s view.
The conversation was brief and, by Elias’ tone, urgent. Arrow could not hear the words, judging by the indrawn breaths from Kester and Orlis that the news was extraordinary. Elias stalked back to them, face pinched.
“There has been another death at the Palace. I am sorry, Arrow.”
“Why?” She blinked, wondering what required his expression of regret to her. “Who has died?”
“Seggerat vo Regersfel arrived last night and was found dead in his bed this morning.”
“Impossible. Seggerat would not allow himself to die in his sleep,” Arrow replied immediately and saw by the gleam in Elias’ eyes that he perfectly understood her.
“Miach is worried. Asks that you return at once.”
“Of course.”
“We need to remain here. Travel with all speed.”
Kester exchanged farewells with the warriors and before Arrow quite knew what was happening she was back on her horse and riding after Orlis’ back along the narrow grassy lanes away from the farm, requiring all her energy to stay on the horse and having none to spare to consider that her second grandfather was now dead.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The journey back to the Palace took a mere fraction of the time that it had to leave and passed in a blur for Arrow, the Erith horses proving they were equal to every legend told about them.
They gave the horses back into the horsemasters’ care then made their way to the Palace, Arrow still light-headed and breathless from the pace and yet another rapid transition, stumbling a little in Kester and Orlis’ wake as they strode through the Palace gardens to a side door for the main building.
Miach met them at the doors, shadows under his eyes suggesting that he had not slept for several days, face tight with displeasure or anger or possibly both. Arrow ducked her head rather than meet his eyes. There were too many secrets here and she had the feeling she would be uncovering more and more.
“He is still in the House rooms,” Miach told them, not bothering with a greeting. “Word is spreading, and the House are not happy.”
“You preserved the scene?” Kester asked, voice clipped.
“Naturally.”
They did not speak again until they had gone along a seemingly endless succession of wide, high-ceilinged corridors and up two shallow flights of stairs. Arrow was hopelessly lost, something that was becoming familiar in the Palace, the mental map she had started to prepare having no reference point on this route. Every corridor was as finely decorated as the last, with handwoven rugs underfoot and priceless art treasures along the walls and in specially designed niches. She was breathing hard, struggling to keep up with the others’ pace, the shadows of bruises across her body aching as more of her energy was spent in moving.
“House Regersfel’s rooms take up one corner of the building.” Miach checked his headlong stride as they came to the top of what seemed to be the last flight of stairs, pausing to cast a glance back over them. Arrow drew in a much-needed breath, paying attention, trying to understand what he was and was not saying. “They are neighbours with House Falsen and House Sovernis.”
“Were any of the other Houses in residence?” Kester seemed familiar with arrangements which had Arrow’s mind spinning. Houses had their own rooms in the main Palace building? Or perhaps just the oldest, more powerful Houses. It might explain why such a large building was required. There were at least twenty major Houses, and dozens more minor ones.
“Not that we are aware.” Miach’s jaw flexed, betraying anger. Arrow wondered who was guarding the Queen with the second cadre absent, inspecting the farm, and the Queen’s first guard here.
They moved along yet another wide and beautifully decorated corridor at a carefully sedate pace, almost elaborately so. Putting on a performance, Arrow understood at once, her suspicion confirmed as they turned a corner and a babble of noise, angry voices raised, greeted them. The corridor ahead was full of House Regersfel retainers, many of whom Arrow recognised, and a White Guard cadre she also knew. Kallish nuin Falsen remained impassive under the loud threats from one of the senior House retainers, folding her arms across her chest and staring the man down. The warrior knew they were there, the briefest look up missed by the angry House retainers.
“No.” A voice she knew all too well. Eshan nuin Regersfel was here. Naturally. And not happy to see her. It was very familiar even in this unfamiliar place. “No. A million times no.”
Whatever further protest Eshan was going to make was drowned out as other retainers turned their anger on Miach.
“This is an outrage! Seggerat deserves the utmost respect!”
“You have no right to keep us from our residence!”
The outcry continued for some moments before Eshan shoved his way to the front.
“You cannot bring it here. It is an abomination.”
“Ladies. Sirs.” Miach’s voice, laced with power, cut through the babble. “I remind you that you are here, we are all here, at the Queen’s grace. She has charged me to learn the truth of this death and to use all available resources to do so.”
“It is a violation to bring it here.” Eshan spluttered the words, normally pale skin mottled red, lips trembling with the force of his feelings.
“The Lady Arrow has a commission from Preceptor Evellan and the Queen’s own command,” Kester said mildly.
Eshan’s mouth dropped and his lips moved soundlessly for several moments.
“You … you are part of this, my lord?”
“Eshan,” Kester said, “stand aside. We want to find out what happened here as badly as you.”
Eshan did not in fact step aside, but allowed himself to be gently steered out of the way by Kester. Arrow and Orlis slipped past, Arrow’s ears burning at the narrowed glares she received from the rest of the House’s retainers and a few comments, muttered loudly enough to carry to even her dull hearing.
